


Wolves Behind Them All

by JackEPeace



Category: I Am The Night (TV 2019)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, Missing Scene(s), set 1x05
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2019-10-04
Packaged: 2020-11-23 03:47:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20885615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackEPeace/pseuds/JackEPeace
Summary: Really he knew they were going to Hawaii, to find Tamar. So he could ask her about Hodel, the clinic, the rest of it. Get the proof that he needed to re-write his story, to re-cast himself in everyone’s memories.He’d sorta...forgotten the rest of it.(set at the beginning of 1x05 after Fauna and Jay leave for Hawaii)





	Wolves Behind Them All

**Author's Note:**

> So "Aloha" is my favorite episode because I am literally obsessed with it and could watch it over and over again. But honestly there are so many missing scenes and moments between Jay and Fauna throughout that whole episode like how could they leave so much of that stuff out?? So I was just like well guess I'll just write it, which is usually the point I can talk myself into with just about anything. I kept feeling pressured to come up with the perfect fic idea and just decided to stop taking myself too seriously and wing it as I do just about everything in my life anyway. Think of this as a sort of Jay and Fauna mini-character study. 
> 
> I'm super excited we have so many new works in this fandom! Shout-out to my new fandom BFF QueenHarleyQuinn for all their amazing work. 
> 
> Title comes from the novel "Thirteen Doorways, Wolves Behind Them All" by Laura Ruby

The second Jay sees her come tearing around the side of the house, suitcase knocking against her knees, he thinks about hitting the gas and never looking back. Just really pressing his foot to the pedal and seeing how fast the car can really go. Maybe not even going back to his apartment. Maybe just getting the hell out of California like he should have done years ago. 

But he just stares at the rearview mirror, because Jay thinks neither of them have learned to avoid situations bigger than they are. 

She’s running like the hounds of hell are on her heels and from what Jay witnessed in the kitchen that’s probably not an unfair assessment. He thinks there’s still time, a few seconds, long enough for him to get some sense, to throw the car in drive and let her figure out her shit without dragging him into it. 

The car stays in park and Jay tries to wipe the surprise off his face when she throws open the passenger side door. “Drive.” 

He thinks anyone else would have barked out the word. Shouted it. A desperate command. But it comes out flat and forceful, as though her investment in the situation is nonexistent. He can drive or not, see what she cares.

Fauna drops into the passenger seat, her suitcase hitting the dash as she pulls it in after her. In the rearview mirror, Jay can see the front door fling open and that makes the decision for him because he knows what it looks like when someone is seriously thinking about killing you and he’s not going to tangle with the angry woman storming out onto the porch.

He hits the gas and Fauna bumps against the back of the seat and the tires squeal as Jay peels away from the house. He looks back, watching the house as it recedes in the distance. Fauna peers over her shoulder, staring behind them long after they’ve left the entire neighborhood behind, and when she turns around again, Jay tries to read her expression. He doesn’t really have much experience with teenagers, especially not teenage girls, but the teenagers in magazines are always smiling and happy, all white-teeth and white-socks and peace-sign necklaces. 

But Fauna definitely isn’t smiling and her expression is far more difficult to read than any of the magazine ads would lead Jay to believe. Her eyes are dark and stormy, a building tempest, unpredictable in its swelling. She reminds him of someone, though Jay can’t for the life of him figure out who. 

“So…” Jay taps his fingers on the steering wheel as he reminds himself to slow the car to a more reasonable speed. “That your mom?” 

Fauna looks at him the way she always looks at him: like she isn’t sure she understands him and is trying to decipher the words that he’s speaking. Like she can’t decide if it’s even worth her time to answer. Like she’s trying to determine the sincerity with which he’s speaking to her.

Jay wishes he could save her the trouble and assure her that he doesn’t do anything sincerely.

Or, no. Maybe that’s not quite right.

Maybe he does everything  _ too _ sincerely. 

“I thought so,” Fauna says finally, a non-answer spoken in the same tone she’d used when she’d designated him her getaway driver. 

Jay can’t stop the lift of his eyebrows. “You...really?”

He doesn’t miss the reddening in Fauna’s cheeks, the way she reaches for her elbows, giving herself a sort of hug. “It doesn’t matter.” Her voice is firm, more for herself, Jay thinks, than him. “We’re going to find my real mother.” 

Jay blinks, the words almost taking him by surprise. Of course, he knew that’s what they were doing.

Sort of. 

Really he knew they were going to Hawaii, to find Tamar. So he could ask her about Hodel, the clinic, the rest of it. Get the proof that he needed to re-write his story, to re-cast himself in everyone’s memories. 

He’d sorta...forgotten the rest of it. 

Jay clears his throat. “Yeah. Yeah. ‘Course.” 

He’s got a headache forming between his eyes and is pretty sure that a drink or two could knock it out. He’s about to be stuck on a plane. For hours. 

Jesus Christ what is he doing. 

“You sure about this?” Jay isn’t sure if he’s asking himself or Fauna. 

Fauna only glowers, because, he thinks, that’s what teenage girls are really good at and that those magazines have got it all wrong. He’s certain no one has pinned him to the wall the way that Fauna’s dark eyes are doing right now.

“What do you mean am I sure? I’m here. I came all this way.” 

Jay nods, clearing his throat. And the headache isn’t feeling much better. “Yeah. Right.” He pauses, and then, “All the way from where?”

“What?” 

“From where,” Jay repeats. “Where are you from?” 

Jesus. Christ. Every person in his entire life that has ever called him an idiot deserves a pat on the back. Because that’s exactly what he is. An idiot. The type of idiot who might be arrested for kidnapping at literally any moment, depending on how trusting of police the angry Mama Bear is. He’s got a girl in his front seat, a stranger, and he’s taking her to Hawaii to meet her long-lost mother and he doesn’t even know where she’s from. 

Fauna looks surprised by the question, as though she, too, is realizing the reality of her situation. Jay thinks she might not answer, because that’s the other thing Fauna is good at. Because, whether she realizes it or not, she’s inherited at least that one trait from her family.

But, then, “Nevada. Sparks.” 

“Sparks,” Jay repeats, because it doesn’t sound like a real place. “Nevada, huh? Do a lot of gambling?” 

The joke falls flat and they’re left looking at each other, stuck at a red light that Jay desperately wishes would turn green. 

Fauna manages to save him from drowning by offering, “Believe it or not, I used to be all about following the rules. I’ve never even been in a casino before.” 

“Good. Only gets you in trouble.” 

Fauna sighs, turning her head to look out the window. “I feel like I’m already in trouble.” 

Jay swallows, anything he can think to say to her getting stuck in his throat. “I...look. I think it’s brave, what you’re doing.” 

Fauna’s head snaps back in his direction and that look is back on her face, like she’s weighing his words, trying to judge the truth of them. “Really?” 

“Yeah. I mean...leaving home, trying to find your real family. Going to Hawaii. It’s not exactly a walk in the park.” 

“Yeah,” Fauna says softly, smoothing the fabric of her dress across her knee. “I guess.” 

She looks different than the last time Jay saw her. Then, she’d been all dressed up, made-up like he imagines she’d imagined a grown-up was supposed to look when they’d been invited to some swanky artist gathering. Now, she just looks like a girl, one running away from home. 

“So,” Jay says, trying to distract the both of them from the obvious, “ever been on a plane before?”

Fauna looks at him as though the question is ludicrous. “No.” A scoff and an eye roll punctuate her sentence. “I took a bus here. I never...I really never thought I was ever going to leave Sparks.” 

Jay wants to assure her that it’s not all it’s cracked up to be, leaving home. That coming to L.A. doesn’t seem to be working out for either one of them. But they’ve got a long few days to spend together and he figures that he might as well keep her talking, keep that grudging smile on her face.

Because he still needs her for his story, for interviews. 

And not really for any other reason.

So he tells himself. 

“The world always seems big until you get out in it,” Jay says instead. “Then it’s all pretty much the same.” 

Fauna scoffs. “Seems pretty different to me.” 

Jay can’t help but smile, his lips quirking up almost on their own accord. “Just wait. You haven’t seen anything yet.” 

“You’ve been to Hawaii?” 

“Once or twice,” Jay says, keeping his eyes firmly on the road, his tone firmly dismissive. So she doesn’t think to ask any more about it.

And, she doesn’t. 

Because Jay is pretty sure there’s one thing that comes from keeping secrets of your own. You always know when someone else is doing the same.

* * *

Fauna wonders how much longer she can hide in the bathroom before it becomes obvious that she’s hiding or before the plane just takes off and leaves her behind. She thinks that’s something that might happen -the plane, leaving her. She thinks Jay probably wouldn’t let it but she’s not sure how much he could really do to stop it.

Really, she should leave.

Fauna stays, her hands pressed flat to the countertop, looking at her reflection in the mirror.

Only days before, she’d done the same thing in Corinna’s bathroom, only then she’d recognize the person looking back at her. Her reflection had been the same she’d seen for years, the girl she’d called Pat, the one who didn’t fit in but at least understood her place in the context of not having one. 

Now, Fauna isn’t sure who is looking back at her. The hair, the clothes, it’s all different. “This is crazy,” she says, again, just to hear the sound of her own voice, to prove that that, at least, is familiar. 

Because it is. Crazy. 

Fauna swallows and still she doesn’t make a move to leave the bathroom. 

Her stomach feels like it’s one giant knot, unsalvageably tangled, like every single breath is just pushing her further and further down a path that she can’t see, can’t even begin to navigate. First, the birth certificate. Then, the bus ticket. The phone calls. The envelope, crumpled in the trashcan. The address book, stolen when Corrina’s back was turned.

Fauna reaches up a hand, gently letting her fingers press to the back of her skull. Her reflection winces, even as she continues to press, masochistically. It makes her feel suddenly, strikingly, lonely to think about how Jay is the only person in the world who knows all her secrets now, including the fresh cut Sepp left behind. It had been tempting to go running back to Big Mama’s, or even straight to Jimmy Lee, to have them take care of her, to soothe the sting and make it better.

But Fauna had just washed the blood out of her hair in Jay’s bathroom sink, dry-swallowing aspirin to stop the ache that spread to her bones. 

This, too, is just another step down the path that no longer leads where Fauna had anticipated.

There’s a knock on the bathroom door and she jumps, startled, her hand falling away from her head. “Uh...just a minute.” 

“Fauna?” It’s Jay’s voice and she can hear his uncertainty, his discomfort, even through the door. “It’s...uh...we should probably...they’re going to be boarding. Soon.” 

“Okay.” Fauna looks back at her reflection. “Just one second.” 

There’s no reply and Fauna can imagine Jay, quickly scurrying away again. He doesn’t seem to know how to be around her, that much is obvious. For someone as handsome, as charming, as Jay Singletary, he doesn’t seem to understand how to carry himself around her, how to look at her, talk to her. 

Which, she thinks, neither does she. Jay is outside the realm of men that she normally interacts with. Boys, like Lewis, were easy. Anyone else was easily dismissed with a quick “yes, sir”, an avoidance of eye contact. But with Jay, that’s not really an option. 

It’s him and her. Together. Alone. She’s about to get on a plane with him. He’s saved her life but Fauna isn’t sure whether that makes him trustworthy or not and she’s out of time to weigh the points in his favor. 

Fauna’s eyes flick back toward her reflection. “Crazy.”

She isn’t sure if she’s talking about herself or the situation. 

Fauna unlocks the bathroom and steps back out into the terminal, trying to ignore the people, the sounds, the smells of the place. There seems to be something happening everywhere she looks but she’s too far gone, too lost in the tangle of her own nerves, to let herself be distracted.

Jay is standing near the gate, dutifully standing guard over her suitcase. He’s got a bag, something small slung over his shoulder like an after thought, and Fauna feels childish, embarrassingly naive, for having packed so carefully like she did.

Jay looks relieved to see her. “Ah. Thought you might be trying to run out on me.” 

Fauna resists the urge to ask him where he thinks she would go off to. Instead, she says, “I think it’s a bit late for that, don’t you?” 

They are, after all, standing in an airport. Fauna can see the plane outside the window, a large monster of a thing that still somehow doesn’t look like it’s going to take them across the ocean, despite its size and it’s long, sturdy wings. There are people all around, drinking, smoking, laughing, looking far more relaxed than Fauna feels. Looking like people about to go on vacation, with their easy smiles, their bright shirts, the flowers in their hair. 

Fauna tries not to look down at herself, at her dress, her flats, her bitten nails. Instead, she blurts out, “It reminds me of this time when I was little...I tore a hole in my dress and I didn’t want my mother to find out so I tried to sew it back together but I kept making it worse, kept making the whole bigger and bigger until it all just unraveled and I knew I was ruining it but I couldn’t stop.” The words come out as easy and quick as breathing. “It’s like that.” 

Jay looks at her the way he always looks at her: like she’s a book in a language he’s never been taught to read, like he isn’t sure to step closer or turn the other way. But then he laughs, a sudden sound that seems to surprise the both of them. “Yeah. Yeah I guess it is like that.” He nods, scrubbing a hand across his face. “No going back.” 

Fauna swallows, feeling the tips of her ears turn red, hot, not because Jay has dismissed her, called her stupid, the way people so often do. But because he seems to understand her completely, and that is somehow harder to hear. 

“Sure you aren’t a writer too?” Jay asks, picking up her suitcase, leading the way back closer toward the gate.

“Me?” Fauna scoffs, dismissing the idea with a shake of her head. “No. I’m not much of a writer at all. Ask my teachers.” 

Jay only sighs. “Yeah, I don’t think I’m much of a writer either,” he says. “Not anymore.” 

“What happened?” Fauna asks, because it seems easier to talk to him when they’re side by side, when they’re distracted by the pretense of a dozen other things and they’re talking like they aren’t just trying to find ways to avoid saying what is really on their minds.

Jay exhales, puffing out his cheeks almost comically as he blows out the breath. “What happened? Well...I thought I was doing the right thing...something good, you know, something a good journalist does. I was trying to tell the truth.” 

Fauna looks at him, even though she thinks it might make it harder to talk to him again. “Were you?” 

Jay looks back and she wonders what he sees when he looks at her. “Yeah. Yeah, I still think I was.” 

“Was it because of...Tamar? Dr. Hodel?” It’s easier to call them by their names instead of the words that Fauna is still trying to wrap her head around.  _ My mother. My grandfather _ .  _ My family _ . 

A hesitation and then a nod. “Yeah. In a way, yeah. Or, I dunno, maybe it was me.” Jay shakes his head, pressing the heel of his hand to his forehead. “I’m not sure anymore. I’m going to get a drink.” 

“But isn’t the plane-” 

“I’ll be quick. I promise.” 

Fauna can only watch as Jay dashes away, feeling a strange sort of sinking feeling in her chest. She wonders if she’ll be doomed for this, destined to always be within reach of learning something real and true about her family, about herself, only to have it snatched out of her reach just as she uncurls her fingers.

But, no, it won’t be forever. That’s why they’re doing this. Why she’s about to get on a plane to Hawaii. To find Tamar, to get the truth once and for all. 

There’s a possibility this is the worst decision she’s ever made in her entire life.

But by now she’s too far gone to go back. The hole can’t possibly be stitched up now. 

* * *

The walk through the terminal, to the gate, to the ramp, and onto the plane consists of a long line of disappointed faces, ending with Fauna’s. She’s already on the plane, hands balled up in her lap, most of the color drained from her face. Jay drops into the empty seat beside her and pretends that he can’t see the way her nose crinkles up, a response to the fact that he’s pretty sure he smells like the bottle he’s been hanging onto for the past thirty minutes. 

Jay flashes a smile at the stewardess, hoping for charming, figuring he’ll settle for a passable grimace. “Sorry. Nervous flyer.” 

The stewardess looks unimpressed, offering no comment as she swishes by in her skirt, checking the overhead bins. 

When Jay looks back to Fauna, he lets the smile slide off his face, hoping for something a little more genuine. If he’s capable of such a thing anymore. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to be gone so long.” 

Fauna doesn’t say anything, which Jay is starting to realize is her go-to response to most things. A side-effect, he thinks, of growing up with a mother like the one he saw in the kitchen only a few hours before, how a person that large and that loud can only crowd everyone else out. 

Or maybe it’s not that at all. Maybe she’s just already learned the skill Jay knows that he’ll never be able to master -the ability to be quiet and still, to take it in rather than bursting into every situation like his presence is a gift, a welcome intrusion. 

The headache pulsing between his eyes is gone. In its place is that stuffed cotton feeling, a gentle padding that makes Jay feel like he can reach out and grab ahold of his life and keep it in one place long enough for him to understand it. Long enough for him to manage it without feeling like everything is happening without him, too fast to hold. The voice in his mind, the ever present ghost of the things he’s done, the person he was, the choices he’s made, has become slightly friendlier thanks for the drinks, assuring him that everything he’s doing now is exactly what he should be doing and that going to Hawaii to talk to Tamar is all he needs to crack the whole thing wide open.

But there’s still Fauna there beside him, staring at him with her sharp eyes, a reminder that he’s not the only one about to go to Hawaii. 

Jay offers her a smile, tentative. “You have the strangest eyes.” 

He means it to be a compliment. An olive branch. But Fauna only closes her eyes, turning her head away and resting her forehead against the window. “I know,” she says softly. “That’s all anyone ever says.” 

Jay doesn’t get a chance to ask, to assure her that his intentions were in the right place, before the stewardess is passing back toward the front of the plane, which is rumbling to life beneath them.

Fauna sits up straighter, opening her eyes again, and Jay can see her hands, still white-knuckled, tighten in her lap. The alcohol in his system makes him edgy and uncertain and Fauna’s thrumming anxiety, rolling off her in waves, doesn’t do much to help him. “Relax,” he says and hopes the word comes out reassuring instead of like a command. “Just...sit back and enjoy.” 

Jay sighs, closing his eyes, leaning his head back against the seat. He can’t wait until they get into the air and the stewardess can bring him another drink. But he can still feel Fauna beside him, ramrod straight, her hair brushing against his shoulder as she turns her head toward the window, toward him, and back again in a dizzying circuit. 

The plane taxis down the runaway, vibrating with noise and its own weight, and then they’re up suddenly, a lurch that lifts them off and Fauna’s hand is suddenly clamped tightly around Jay’s wrist and he wonders if she’s even aware of the gesture, of the fact that her nails are biting crescent marks into his skin. 

His first instinct is to shake her off, mostly because he can’t remember the last time someone’s first impulse was to reach for him to offer support and he’s not sure that he can be responsible for something like that. But Jay forces himself to stay steady, to reach out his other hand and cover Fauna’s with it. “It’s okay,” he tells her, the assurance sounding stilted and hollow, lines that he’s reciting. “You’ll get used to it. It’ll level out.” 

Fauna nods but her eyes are wide and it’s the first time Jay thinks he’s seen her afraid, unruffled and unnerved. Even at the Happening, with Sepp, in the basement, Fauna had been oddly composed, watching the fight unfold like she was removed from it all. But now, she looks afraid, uncertain, her hand tight enough on Jay’s to hurt. 

It makes him want another drink. And maybe one for her too. 

“This is a mistake,” Fauna says softly, her eyes searching Jay’s, and he wonders what she sees when she looks at him. If she’s seeing in Jay what everyone else does, only belatedly realizing who she’s thrown her lot in with. “She doesn’t want to see me.” 

“Fauna-” 

The plane keeps climbing, shuddering, shivering against its own momentum, and Jay watches the color slide from Fauna’s cheeks. He pulls his hand away from hers, reaching for the air sickness bag in the pocket in the seat in front of his, holding it out for her just in time for Fauna to throw up into it. 

Jay thinks that’s probably the most efficient he’s been at anything in years. 

A beat, two, three -it feels like years- before Jay thinks to reach out to Fauna, to put his hand against the curve of her hunched back. “You’re okay.” The words sound a little more human this time, more sincere. He means them, and, more importantly, he wants her to believe them. “You’re okay.” 

Fauna exhales and her eyes are shiny with unshed tears and she looks at him like she wants, so desperately, for him to take care of everything.

Jay quickly looks away, waving for the stewardess. “Water, please. And, uh, gin, if you have it.” 

Fauna doesn’t look at either of them as she hands over the bag and keeps her gaze firmly on her feet as the woman shuffles away. “Sorry,” she says quietly. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s fine,” Jay assures her quickly, taking his hand off her back suddenly. “Really. It happens to people all the time.” 

She presses her hands to her eyes, rubbing away the shine, blinking until the tears disappear. “It’s embarrassing,” she grumbles and he thinks she’s more real than any of the teenagers in the magazine ads who look like they never get embarrassed or angry. 

“Who cares?” Jay waves his hand away. “Trust me, I get sick all the time. From drinking too much...but still.” 

Fauna stares at him a beat before he can see her trying not to smile and Jay feels himself grin at her reaction, feeling oddly vindicated. 

The stewardess brings the water, and the gin, and neither Jay nor Fauna mention Fauna’s words right before she’d gotten sick. Jay figures it doesn’t matter anyway; it’s difficult to have second thoughts when you’re flying over the Pacific. 

For a while, they’re quiet, which only gives Jay’s thoughts and doubts plenty of time to grow and manifest in his mind. He’s pretty sure Tamar will agree to speak with him, especially once he delivers Fauna to her. His gift, intended to curry favor, to make Tamar more likely to see him as a friend, an ally. But then what? Does he leave Fauna with Tamar in Hawaii? Is he still supposed to take care of her once she has a mother there? Is he supposed to trust someone  _ else _ to take care of her?

Jay looks over at Fauna, who has her chin resting in the palm of her hand, her eyes glued to the window outside. She’s here with him because she trusts him to help her, because out of all her options, all her avenues, she thinks that Jay is the best one. 

The idea makes Jay feel like his skin is suddenly stretched too tightly across his bones, his body hot and prickly, makes him desperate to get out of his seat, to get off this plane, to find someone who isn’t going to look at him with trust in her eyes but with the resigned disappointment that he’s used to. 

It’s a relief when the stewardess comes by with snacks and Jay has something else to focus on. “Here.” He hands over one of the peanut bags to Fauna. “This’ll make you feel better.” 

Wordlessly, Fauna takes the bag from him, opening it but leaving the peanuts untouched. “Do you have any paper?” 

“Paper?” For a second, Jay forgets himself, the fact that he’s supposed to be a reporter, that paper is a common tool of his trade.

Fauna lifts her eyebrows. “Can I have some? To write on?” 

Jay reaches into his bag, digging through the jumbled diaster within until he grabs out his notebook and tears a few pieces free for Fauna. He hands over a pen, watching as Fauna smooths the papers out against her knee. “For what?” 

“Nothing.” But Fauna shifts her position slightly, using her shoulder to try and block his view. They’re too close together for it to actually do any good, but Jay gets her meaning clearly enough.

“Yeah, good idea. I’ve got stuff to work on, too.” Jay turns to a blank paper and tries to imagine what the headline will read when he finally blows the case of George Hodel wide-open. When he takes the man down. When he exposes Hodel and stages his own triumphant return to the world of the living.

Fauna gets more done than he does, even if she writes sentences and paragraphs only to cross them out soon after. FInally, with a huff of exasperation, Fauna finally crumbles the pages up in her fists, letting them fall to the floor.

“I just don’t know what to say,” Fauna admits finally, flattening one of the crumpled balls with the toe of her shoe. “When I see her. I thought it might be easier to write it down but...it all sounds so stupid.” 

Jay shakes his head. “It’s not stupid,” he assures her quickly. “You’ll know what to say.” 

“How?” 

She has that look in her eyes again, entreating, hopeful. Like Jay will say the right thing, do the right thing. Like he’ll make everything somehow okay. 

“You’ll just, you know,” Jay says, clearing his throat, “know.” 

Fauna looks disappointed and Jay feels like the natural order of the world has restored itself at least a little.

* * *

Fauna scoops a palmful of water into her mouth, swishing it from cheek to cheek in an attempt to rinse out the taste of blood. When they’d finally landed, she’d managed not to throw up again, saving her at least that small embarrassment. But the inside of her cheek is raw from where she’d practically chewed it to pieces in an effort to hide her nervousness, her desire for the plane to just land so that all of this would be over.

Except, Fauna knows, it’s only just begun. 

Because now she’s in Hawaii and the only person she knows here is Jay and she’s becoming less and less certain that that’s enough. He’s here to help her, to take her to finally meet Tamar, but Fauna knows that he’s not doing it out of the goodness of his heart. She’s not as stupid as everyone seems to believe she is, at least not when it comes to the things that motivate people.

He needs her, maybe just as much as she needs him. And Fauna thinks that will, at least, keep him from leaving her behind in Hawaii without a way home or an inkling of where she is. 

Fauna switches off the water, reaching for one of the paper towels sitting in a basket on the counter. Her hands are still shaking and she’s glad that she has the excuse of the flight to blame her nausea on, as well as her trembling hands, the lack of color in her cheeks. 

Her hand still feels heavy from the weight of Jay’s, when he’d reached out to take her hand as they’d landed without saying anything, without looking at her. He hadn’t seemed to mind when her hand had tightened reflexively on his, hadn’t so much as grimaced, though Fauna is certain that Jay hadn’t realized she’d seen him shaking his hand, flexing his fingers, once they were filing down the aisle and back toward solid ground. 

Jay is waiting somewhere outside the bathroom, unless he’s already found a bar to occupy himself with. That, at least, is something Fauna can understand. She knows how to be around someone who has had too much to drink, even if Jay’s moods are so far nothing like her mother’s. 

Tossing the crumpled paper towel into the trash, Fauna knows that she should leave. That she hasn’t come all this way just to hide in a bathroom and never come face to face with Tamar. 

It still takes her five more minutes before she unlocks the door and steps back into the busy terminal. 

Jay is standing a few feet away, her suitcase at his feet, a map spread open in his hands, his brow furrowed as he considers the twisting roads and bright colors. When she walks over, Jay thrusts a plastic bag in her direction. “Here.” 

“What is it?” Fauna takes the bag cautiously, peering inside. 

Jay clears his throat, still refusing to look at her. “Just, I dunno, nothing. It’s nothing. It’s fine.” He swallows and Fauna wonders if this is what embarrassment looks like on Jay Singletary. 

Inside the bag is a dress, swirls of yellow and pink and purple, brightly colored and vibrant like the outfits of the women that she sees all around her. She lifts the fabric up, giving Jay a quizzical look. “You…” 

“I thought you might want to dress like the locals.” Jay waves his hand dismissively, starting to fold up the map. “Look, you don’t have to...I just…” 

They look at each other and Fauna knows if she stands there waiting for Jay to finish his thought, to explain why he saw a dress and thought she might like it, then they’ll be standing there forever.

Instead, she just offers him a beginning of a smile, holding the dress to her. “No...I...thank you.” 

He doesn’t say anything when Fauna ducks back into the bathroom, just like he doesn’t say anything when she comes back out again, a flash of color, her old, travel-rumpled dress balled up in her hands. Fauna feels better already, wearing something that doesn’t smell like the plane and her sweat and maybe a little bit like vomit and, dressed for the part, she thinks she might actually be able to handle being in Hawaii, meeting Tamar, bringing all of these strangeness to an end. 

“Thank you,” Fauna says again.

Jay just nods, tapping the flat of the map against his palm. “Yeah. Sure. You look great. Let’s go get the car.” 

She picks up her suitcase, following Jay through the crowds of people, most of them dressed like they’re there for a vacation, to enjoy this strange new paradise that now belongs to the United States. Fauna almost envies them, wishing that she lived the sort of life that brought her to Hawaii for something fun, for a few days where she could pretend like she didn’t have a care in the world.

But at least, now, she looks like them. She can play the part of a girl on vacation and fool anyone who might look at her.

When they get to the counter to collect the rental car, the smiling man who helps Jay fill out the paperwork hands Fauna a lei, a twist of deep purple flowers that she can’t help but finger, carefully, before draping the garland over her shoulders. 

Jay looks at her and smirks and even though Fauna feels her cheeks pink with embarrassment, she smiles back. Her hands are still shaking but at least she looks like she belongs here. Just like everybody else.

The man disappears to get the car and Fauna folds her hands together, trying to hide her trembling, trying to resist the urge to bounce impatiently on her heels. “Are you nervous?” 

“Nervous?” Jay repeats, squinting at her. “Nervous. No. Why?” 

She’s not entirely sure that he’s telling the truth, but she decides to let it go. Fauna just gestures around them, hoping to encompass not only the airport but all of Hawaii and the woman that supposedly resides somewhere on its shores. “We’re really here. We’re going to find...Tamar.” 

The word that she so desperately wants to use sticks in her throat, impossible to shake lose. 

Jay gives her a distracted sort of smile. “Yeah. That’s a good thing, right?” 

He asks like he doesn’t need the answer, like he thinks he already knows it. Fauna nods anyway, because she isn’t sure how else to answer. She brought them here, after all, it’s not like she can get cold feet. 

“I just…” Fauna picks at her cuticle, her nails already chewed to the quick. “I hope she won’t be mad I’m here.” 

As soon as she says the words, she wants to take them back, because the last thing she wants is to admit to her weakness, the fears pressing into the back of her mind, worrying away at her, making her hands shake. It’s too late, too late to look like the little girl her mother seems convinced that she is.

But she can’t take them back, any more than she can call them lies. Fauna lifts her eyes to Jay and thinks about all the things that he might say to make her feel like being here is the right thing after all.

But what Jay says is, “Course not” hurriedly tossed her way as he goes to intercept the guy bringing back the keys to the car.

Fauna tries not to be disappointed which is, unfortunately, something she has yet to master throughout her sixteen years of life. 

They get to the car and Jay sighs, reaching for the door handle before hesitating, looking across the car at her, and Fauna thinks this might be it, this might be the moment when Jay tells her that he’s changed his mind, that he can’t do this after all, that he’s seen her shaking hands and isn’t sure he can do this with someone who is afraid, who can’t follow through. 

But he exhales, squinting through the bright sun. “I’m not...really good at this stuff.” 

“What stuff?” 

Jay gestures between them, like Fauna is supposed to find the answer somewhere in the air. “This...the...talking and the taking care of someone. I think I used to be good at...before. But now I don’t...I’m shit at all of it.” 

Fauna surprises herself with the corners of her lips tick upward, when she says, “You aren’t total shit.” 

She pulls open the passenger side door, dropping into the seat, looking at Jay expectantly. 

Jay gives her a nod before sliding behind the wheel. He’s still squinting, glaring at the sun, bright and hot and heavy in front of them. “See any sunglasses?” 

Fauna dutifully glances around, trying to figure out if she likes the way Jay volleys easily from subject to subject, if his no-harm-no-foul attitude makes it easier or harder to talk to him. Not that it matters either way what she prefers. She has a feeling there’s no changing Jay Singletary.

Fauna shrugs, offering him her empty palms in response. That, it feels like, is all she really has to offer anyone at all nowadays. 

“Shit. Figures.” Jay twists the key and the engine roars to life and he puts the top down and Fauna looks up at the vibrant blue sky, stretching out endlessly above them, not a cloud in the sky. 

“Maybe coming here was the right thing,” Fauna says, reaching up to tie back her hair as the wind snatches at it. “It seems like the most perfect place in the world.” 

Jay just shakes his head, a wry smile on his face. “You haven’t seen anything yet.” 


End file.
